The house felt unusually quiet as my father left for a few days, leaving me with his best friend, Mr. Graves.

I wasn’t sure why, but there was something unsettling about him. He was always so full of energy, talking a little too much and laughing a little too loud. He never seemed to stop moving—always darting around the house, making strange jokes and asking me too many questions.

"Hey, kiddo, how’s my favorite little buddy today?" he called from the kitchen, his voice loud and upbeat. His brown hair was a mess, and his sleeves were rolled up as he hummed a tune, completely oblivious to the awkward tension in the room.

I shrank back, clutching my stuffed animal tightly. He was always so close—too close—and it made me feel uneasy.

"Your dad will be back before you know it," he added with a grin, flashing me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "But in the meantime, we’re going to have some fun, right?"

I nodded, though my heart raced. Fun? With him? The idea didn’t seem all that appealing.